


I Really Don't Want to Punch You

by faultyfriendofyours



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Lennison - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours
Summary: Tumblr Request: possible a george x john one shot? george angst and john comforts him x
Relationships: George Harrison/John Lennon
Kudos: 19





	I Really Don't Want to Punch You

There was a fire stoking George’s eyes. It burned bright and clear to everyone in his path. His shoulders were set back and tense, hands uncurling and curling into fists. The veins on his arms popped out even more than usual if that were possible. He was in a rage-filled rush, steps heavy as he crossed the recording studio floor.

What had John walked into? He glanced at Paul and Ringo but found them standing in a corner, faces to the wall as they spoke. Obviously out of the loop, John stepped aside from the doorway. “Who pissed in your tea?”

George’s glare turned on John, slicing him to pieces in seconds before storming out. The door slammed in his wake. With the evidence of his departure, Ringo and Paul finally looked back, staring stupidly at John.

“He did it.” Ringo shrugged and went back to his drum kit.

Paul shot an incredulous look at him before looking back at John. “Well, George really started it all, y’know?”

Rolling his eyes, John went back out, rushing to catch up with George once the door closed. He guessed his path, not able to see him anywhere, and ran around a corner. There was no time to stop himself, though he tried to put on the breaks. It was all futile and he ran straight into George, who caught him by the shoulders as they crashed into the wall.

“Wonder- isn’t it?- meeting you here.” John put on a mock seducing voice, raising his brows.

“I really don’t want to punch you,” George proclaimed, obviously about to punch him.

Patting him on the shoulders as he stepped back, John smiled. “Well that’s gear, ain’t it? Because I don’t fancy you going spare on me.” His love was painfully unamused, coals still blistering in his eyes. “Alright, alright. Come on.”

John ushered George down the hall, holding him by his wrist. He scoured for an empty room and stumbled across one rather quickly and ducked inside. Flipping the switch ushered in artificial light, casting shadows across George’s hollow cheeks that did nothing to make him look less threatening. 

“What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you go off and ask the almighty Paul McCartney? See what he’s got to say.”

Ringo was right. 

John groaned, tiresomely. “Paul can be a right twat. You know that better than us all.”

George slammed his fist onto the nearby table. The unsuspecting wood let out an insulted thud. “If he can’t keep his own to his own then I’m out of the fucking band.” Something softer-edged in his voice and in the blind of his eyes, the fire dissolved. He slumped against the table and took a deep breath. “I don’t even want to talk about this. Just leave me alone, yeah?”

“Hey,” John moved closer and brought his hand to the side of George’s neck, rubbing just below his hairline. “What’s between you and Paul can stay between you both.” John maneuvered himself between George and the table, both hands going to the back of his head. “I just don’t want you all wound up.”

George breathed out his nose, eyes shutting softly. Encouraged by the releasing tension, John brushed his fingers through his hair, making George hum and press himself against John. “Fine. But only for you.”


End file.
